These Darkened Rows
“These darkened rows” A philosophical discourse on The Foesong By Yllatis Paome, bd. We hear much music in our lifetimes: songs of celebration and sorrow; songs learnt in the temple, at the market or the dockyards; songs that are conveyed by the stars and divinity around us, heard with the inner ear, and (if one is blessed with a musical gifting such as I) songs that can be transposed and communicated to others. Over time, these songs form the fabric of our being and world; they are worn by us just as would be a tunic or gaberdine. These songs change, are torn apart and patched up again, taking new shapes and colors and yet still preserving something of their original form. Such is the case with the fascinating melody we now know as the Foesong – a song that once bore a plain and rudimentary refrain, its multiple variations familiar to all of us in one way or another, and yet a song that proves to have a powerful secret history and significance. Recent events unfolding in the Gardbury Downs, northwest of Fallcrest (affairs of which this humble author shall not convey, apart from the fact that his role was not insignificant to their resolution), have unfurled a rich tapestry of understanding in regard to the musical heritage of this region. A party of adventurers (their names inconsequential to this current dissertation, but certainly this author values their contribution and telling of the tale), ventured North to investigate certain indiscretions at the old Gardmore Abbey. Throughout their investigation, the party repeatedly crossed paths with a song that humbly belied the magnitude of its origins. Sung by a young girl of nine at the base of the green tower in Fallcrest, the tune and lyric of this song were immediately recognizable to the young party of adventurers as a piece of traditional folk music common to the region. Deep in the downs where the foefern grows Don’t go to sleep where the gloom light goes. She steals your eyes and bites your toes, She’ll prick your fingers like a darkened rose. The tower’s wizard (for if there is a tower anywhere in the world it surely contains either a distressing damsel or a raving, mad arcanist), is unsurprised the young girl would recite a sing-song melody taught to her by her mother, but proceeds to identify it as a playful variation of a much older song. Ahhhh. That is a song I have not heard in a lifetime. It was once called the Foesong, but it has changed much since I last heard it. Do you know of its origin? It matters not, know only that it is one of the old songs, very powerful in its time. Here then is more evidence to the power of music. Though this modest and self-effacing author seeks not to promote the profession he so faithfully pursues, I do pause here to note that songs, well sung, have the power to change us. Woe to the world without music, as I, who have spent a lifetime as music’s apprentice, can attest! An evening without the lyre is a year without one’s lover. Add music to the list of life’s necessities, great scribe, for what is breathing if without song? My dear reader may be pleased to note, impertinent as this information seems (your lowly author presents this knowledge against conscience and only because it would be criminal for him to not share this unclaimed bounty), that a wonderfully skilled musician may be found at the Lucky Gnome tavern in Fallcrest on Earthdays and Freedays. Now then, back to the subject at hand, the Foesong! Later, as the fresh and inexperienced party negotiates a night’s stay at the Lucky Gnome tavern (Earthdays and Freedays), they hear the song again, as sung by the skilful and striking bard, Yllatis Paome (indeed, it is I, your author!) to a room enrapt by the joyful pluck and heartfelt ballad so softly and convincingly sung by the handsome musician. Deep in the Downs where the Foefern grows There an old gal loves to dance with no clothes. She’ll offer her bosom and tickle your toes, Your dreams will come true in her darkened rose. This version of the song (a bawdy jig fancied up a bit for the lyre – for one must know one’s audience) rings strangely coincidental to the party, and they press gentle Yllatis, who bears the brooch pipes of a studied bard, for more of the song’s history. “It is naught but an old marm’s song; to get the younglings to mind while you’re on the road,” shares sweet Yllatis. He goes on to say that for many years travellers through the Gardbury downs have used a local bogeyman legend to keep their children from straying too far from camp. The stories include various accounts of a hag living beneath the hills who would steal away children to her barrow lair. Twilight, or the “gloaming” hour, is the time children should return to camp to avoid being snatched away by the downs witch. Over time, the story of the downs mother (or gloam mother) evolved into a children’s playsong, then a popular folk ballad. Yllatis told his tale, staring longingly into the night outside the tavern window. “I have long suspected there is more to this song than any of us realize,” he spoke, softly and unassuming in his wisdom. The reference to the gloam mother, or downs witch, is easily dismissed by the young, and frankly amateurish party, who recognize the legend as part of the fabric of the region’s oral storytelling tradition. However, on the road to Gardmore Abbey, the party finds further evidence that the song holds more significance than they first realized. Scribed in the Deep Speech onto parchment held by one of their fallen Drow pursuers (a detestable, desperate band of villains – and I speak from first hand experience), the party finds a record of several variations of the song. Clearly the Drow uncovered something of the song’s secret history, and their pursuit of the party forces the adventurers to realize that the song’s significance may be tied in some fashion to Gardmore Abbey. The author pauses once more, begging his reader’s pardon, to tarry a while on the subject of musical enchantment. It is commonly held, dear reader, that music does delight and enchant the senses. But did you know, and I mean not to boast too severely of this proud vocation, that a skilled and disciplined artist uses his music to manipulate the elements, admonish foes and bolster allies? Tis true! I for one will attest that the power of a musician to sway hearts and minds, can transpose upon his weapon a swift and deadly vigor. Again we return, dear reader, to the Foesong. It is not until much later, despite several nonsensical visions and other foolishness that the party finally discovers the original version of the song, carved in dark letters into the stone floor of a secret room beneath the Abbey catacombs. Meant to be sung in the Deep Speech, the Foesong is a divine incantation used by the Ancient Order of Knights to seal off a powerful artefact buried deep below the Abbey. By the Deep Speech of our unnamed foe We trap her power in the gloom below, Her magic tied where no sunlight shows, Bound forever in these darkened rows. Darkened rows indeed! While the history of the artefact and how it arrived in Gardmore has been lost with the other accounts of the Knights’ crusades, the text or “darkened rows” of the Foesong at least preserve some of the Order’s ancient magic, and further emphasize the power of music. You may be pleased to know, dear reader, that entrusted with the sacred gift of music, this modest author, seeking not but to illuminate minds and entertain hearts, has taken on the burden of public performance of the Foesong in all of its various forms (Earthdays and Freedays at the Lucky Gnome). In this fashion we may further preserve the rich legacy of the Ancient Order of paladins who sagely saw fit to combine their incantations with the power and wonder of music. Category:Aryanne's Song